Lather, Rinse, Repeat
by zedonkulouslybashful
Summary: Alistair and F!Mahariel do NOT get along. She has been running the party ragged since Ostagar. So, after dealing with the Circle Tower mess, Alistair is ready for a nice shower. "Pairings": Zevran/Anders/Cullen/Alistair, but eventually just Cullen/Alistair. Rated M. NSFW.


**Disclaimer**: These are borrowed, Bioware-owned characters.

**Prompt**: dragon age - k ink . live journal 2508 . ? thread = 4925388 # t4925388

**Prompt gist**: Something with all 'em boys. And steam.

* * *

**Notes**: Nearly posted this "Anon" as PWoP but a plot bunny kicked me. If you want PWoP, section 6 is for you.

**AU Warning**: Pretend that Cullen isn't PTSD right now. He's just a guy who is used to mopping up mage blood after Harrowings go south; rebellions just mean overtime. He liked Amell but he died in his Harrowing and Cullen is still dealing (because he never told him). Hasn't let himself be into mages since and most of the templars he works with aren't gay, SO he's a pretty sullen dude.

Also the ending is AU because, come on, Al has too much going for him to become a drunk.

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-1-

Alistair couldn't help but roll his eyes. "_She wants to recruit the Dalish first and not Eamon's army?_" He crossed his arms, looking at Lothering's blighted chickens peck the ground. "_Well, this is going to be a long Blight. ...Stupid elf._"

-2-

Leliana hummed while rubbing Mahariel's shoulders by the fire. Opposite them, Zevran leered at them and re-adjusted his balls. Alistair curled his lip, glancing from the **for-some-reason**-rescued assassian to the two woman oblivious to them. He threw the rose he picked for Mahariel in the fire.

-3-

"You want to go to the Circle? From here? That's on the other side of the Bannorn!" shouted Alistair. "**Why** will you not go to Redcliffe? We need Eamon's supp-"

Mahariel replied, "You shemlin are weak. The Elvhen don't grow fat in stone fortresses. And, Creators help me, I will not cower at the feet of some shemlin noble for help with a **shemlin** civil war!"

"But Loghain-"

"Was a shemlin hero once. And he probably will again as fickle as your kind is!"

"I don't know how Leliana puts up with you," he said, turning back toward camp.

Kicking the back of his knee so he'd kneel, she grabbed his hair to reveal his jugular and pressed her blade's edge to it.

Through her teeth, she said, "Leliana is convenient. But you, **you** are annoying. If you want to go to Redcliffe, go yourself, shemlin."

-4-

Templars were scrubbing the walls and floor. Ulred's rebellion wrecked the Circle tower and, after that ordeal, all Alistair wanted was a shower and a soft bed. It had been nothing but disaster after disaster, ever since Ostagar.

Alistair took off his blood-smeared helmet. "Are the showers this way?" he asked. The mage was walking the other direction but stopped, sized him up, and smiled. "Yes, they are. I'll show you."

Zevran entered the hallway and saw Alistair walking up with a handsome blond. "Who is this, Alistair?"

"I, um, sorry, what is your name, ser?"

"They call me Anders."

With a bow, Zevran introduced himself. "_Hm, a foreigner_," Anders noted, liking his company more and more.

As they all walked down the hall, Anders chattered, "The mages have...well, I guess, **had**...the apprentices practice fire spells on the water holding stills. The lake has all kinds a failed potions dumped in it, so we boil the water. That way we can use it for the showers, cooking, drinking, etc."

It felt like years since Alistair had a shower, never mind a hot one...

-5-

Cullen let the warm water trickle down his back. With most of the mages dead, he knew this would soon be a luxury. He heard some guys enter and turned toward the wall; he wouldn't have time for a quick jerk like he hoped. He stroked his length just a couple more time then resumed lathering up.

Alistair saw someone through the steam. He never had experience with an open shower before so he called out, "Sorry!" and pulled on Zevran's elbow to leave.

Anders and Cullen, in unison, replied, "For what?"

Zevran volunteered, "My dear warden, this isn't a single shower," then he pointed, "See the other shower-heads?"

He squinted. "Oh."

Anders and Zevran shed their towels and picked shower-heads next to each other to the left of Cullen. Alistair hesitated but finally took the remaining one to Cullen's right.

He closed his eyes as the warm spray of water hit his face. The sweat and grit cascaded off his tired body and he let out a contented sigh. Forgetting he wasn't alone, he turned so the water massaged his shoulders and back, soaping up.

Cullen watched Alistair for a moment out of the corner of his eye but turned away; he was tired of unreciprocated lust. So he was surprised to see Anders and Zevran kissing deeply, each with other's member in hand. He couldn't look away and felt his dick stiffened.

Anders was accustomed to the feeling of being watched but Zevran was not. The elf looked in Cullen's direction, said to Anders, "Ah, we have an audience," and then asked Cullen, flirtatiously, "do you like what you see?"

Alistair opened his eyes and said, "Pardon?" then dropped his jaw. Anders and Zevran had crossed to Cullen. The elf was tracing his fingers down Cullen's ripped stomach while Anders stood behind Zevran, rubbing his shoulders. But Anders was looking appraisingly at Alistair with a half-smile.

To his own surprise, Alistair didn't recoil. Cullen looked from the elf who was openly flirting with him to Alistair, the one who caught his eye. To Zevran's earlier question, Cullen replied, "Perhaps." Strangely complimented, Alistair swallowed.

Zevran kissed Cullen's neck and took his length in hand. He hardened quickly, never having this kind of attention before.

Anders followed suit with Alistair. The mage murmured in his ear, "Ever been with a mage?" to which the almost-templar shook his head. "Nor- nor a man," he stammered. Anders, raised his brow, intrigued and said, "Challenge accepted."

Cullen appreciating Zevran's attention but wanting to have Alistair's, gulped, then risked suggesting a change of pairing. "I, ah, I think we...ahm...you- you two know what you are doing so may- maybe..."

"Who says we have to pair off?" said Anders, teasing Alistair's balls and reaching for Zevran's backside.

"How would that...?" began Alistair.

Zevran and Anders looked side-long as each other and smiled deviously.

-6-

Alistair laid face-up on the wet tile floor, per Anders' instructions. Cullen straddled Alistair's chest, kneeling. Zevran, who stood facing Cullen, bid Anders to enter him with his fingers. Meanwhile Anders worked Alistair's cock.

When Alistair was hard, Anders positioned himself on Alistair's dick, craning to reach his asshole with his other hand. When Alistair reached Anders' prostate, Anders began to spark inside both Zevran and Alistair.

Alistair and Zevran's moans nearly undid Cullen, who was obediently waiting his turn. With a nod from Zevran, Cullen scooted back so Alistair could take him into his mouth. The wet, hungry heat was better than any hot shower jerk he had been subsisting on. Now Cullen joined the chorus of groans. "Tch, tch, don't forget about me," said the elf to Cullen, gesturing to his throbbing cock. Cullen lapped him up, holding him by the hips.

As Anders thrust deeper into Alistair (and Alistair into him), he would pull back from Zevran. Zevran, in turn, would push into Cullen, and Cullen into Alistair's mouth. The resultant rocking of the party made for rhythmic pleasure for all.

Even more so when Alistair tried on Cullen what Anders was doing to him.

-7-

Shah Wyrd was now a pile of ash, but still the basement sounded haunted with baritone groaning. It kept getting louder and louder. Sometimes it sounded like two voices, other times three, but at its height, four.

Eventually it tampered off and finally stopped. Then the pipes rumbled and squeaked. Then finally silence.

Mahariel looked at Morrigan, shook her head, and thought, "Glad I'm not a mage."

-8-

Alistair stormed out of the Landsmeet chamber, indignant. Mahariel, with her characteristic poor decision-making, chose Loghain over him. But, then again, he surprised to not be executed.

Still seething, he considered his options.

Start a rebellion in his name? No...he didn't want to be King, just didn't want Loghain to get off scot free.

Rebuild the Wardens? Not if Mahariel was one.

Then it dawned on him: he could become a full templar.

And, maybe, just maybe, he could run into that mage Anders and that one templar again...

-9-

"Knight-Captain Cullen," saluted Alistair. They tried to be formal with each other when others might be listening.

"Ser Alistair," he nodded in return, with a small smile.


End file.
